Cherries and Gunfights
by CaptTARDIS
Summary: Peter and Neal investigate a tax fraud. Awkward closeness and a crush ensues? Neal/Peter slash-ish. NOT involving El.


Hmmm, hmmm, so many TV shows to pick from. I'm dead set on writing fics for all fandoms and ships that I like, and I guess WC is up next. (Screw any attempt at order!) I should be writing other stuff, but when inspiration strikes…

**Info:**

I don't own White Collar. That's alright. The writers do an epic job of it; I'd just screw it up.  
There is slash. Not that I see how that's a big deal, but some people… *shrug*  
This is ever so slightly AU. Elizabeth is NOT married to Peter and is NOT going to be involved in a threesome. Instead, they met wherever they met, said whatever they said, but the chemistry turned them into friends, not lovers. Petey is wide open for this fic! Go, Neal, GO!

* * *

"Caffrey!" Peter Burke barked in his gruff tone and smacked the back of said criminal's head, messing up the perfect 'do.

Neal Caffrey lifted his head off of his arms quickly, snorting ungracefully as he woke up. He blinked blearily at one slightly irritated Agent Burke.

"Yeah?" he inquired, voice thick, "What is it?"

"Those tax records," Peter gestured at the objects in question, "Do we have anything on our guy?"

"Hnnnn," Neal turned slowly to the papers, recalling the many hours he had spent pouring over them last night. "No. Nothing yet. If we could visit his–"

"No, Neal," Peter stared at him with an admonishing look on his face. Neal's heart stopped and jumpstarted for just a split second at the use of his first name. He grinned – leered – at the FBI agent. "What?" Peter demanded at last.

"You used my name," Neal commented casually, "You don't normally do that."

"Yeah, well," he shifted uncomfortably, apparently just noticing his slip from the cold key-holder role, "Thanks for doing this, Caffrey."

"No problem," Neal Caffrey waved him off.

"No, really," Peter insisted, "Thanks."

Neal didn't reply, but a smile ghosted across his face as he returned to the forms on the desk. He stole a last quick glance at Peter, but his back was turned. He couldn't see his face, so facial emotion was unavailable, but his body posture looked a little bit more relaxed.

~***~

Neal and Peter charged through the building as quietly as they could while running away from someone who would kill them at any given chance. Neal, through effective wheedling, whining, and a small bit of evidence, had gotten his chance to visit the man they were investigating. Less like "visit", more like "breaking and entering," Peter had said; but Neal definitely got the goods on him.

The only problem was the man had gotten home earlier than they had estimated. He opened the door to his study to find papers and folders strewn on the desk and floor. Drawers were open, and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a black hair on one of them that didn't belong to any of his employees. The man gave a suspicious look around the room before storming out, presumably to yell at one of his staff.

Neal and Peter huddled under the desk the whole time, Neal had his knees bent up in the air, and Peter was straddling him, supporting his weight with one arm that brushed against Neal's. Their faces were close enough Neal could smell the cherry pie with liberal doses of cinnamon Peter had for lunch. Cherry breath brushed across his face, and Neal was focusing less on being caught and murdered than keeping his excitement restrained. At one moment, Peter's arm wobbled and he nearly crashed on top of Neal. Neal couldn't be sure whether he was glad or a bit saddened it didn't happen.

When the man left the room, Peter gladly pushed his way out of the desk and Neal climbed out, slightly unsteadily, behind him. They opened the door a crack and slipped out. Below them, two heavyset men guarded the front door.

"Damn," Peter swore quietly, "This was supposed to be an in and out mission, Caffrey!"

Caffrey snorted, and Peter ducked, pulling Neal down with him. The agent watched as the guards glanced curiously up the stairs. The ex-con watched the agent's lips as they muttered silent swears. He shook his head and turned to watch the guards as well. Agent and con man would never work out. Plus, the handsome man was probably as straight as a ruler. It always worked out like that; the person you liked most never liked you back.

"Caffrey!"

Neal hit reality with a smack as the harsh whisper reached his ears. One of the guards was advancing up the stairs, waving for the other one to follow him. Peter grabbed Neal's wrist and dragged him off, running, in whichever direction was the quickest. He must have knocked something over at one point, though, because the men were yelling and chasing right behind them.

After several minutes of deadly hide and seek tag, Peter and Neal spotted an exit at the same moment. They were almost to the door, when the man stepped in front of them.

"Ah, ah, ahhh!" he tutted, wagging a finger, "Not going somewhere, are we?"

"James," Peter said warningly, "You don't want to do this, Lide."

"Don't I, though?" James replied thoughtfully. He smiled. "It's too late now."

Each of the guards pinned the men's arms to their sides and carried them behind the dark haired James Lide. When they reached his office room, they were pushed into chairs and tied back. James pulled out a knife slowly.

"Isn't there any way you can get us out of this?" Peter muttered.

Neal shook his head slowly, thinking furiously. He couldn't just cut the ropes and go; he'd be caught again, even if he didn't have to rescue Peter. He could just pretend to be tied back, but most likely it wasn't torture the man was after, but elimination of a threat to his thievery. It was stupid, really, Neal thought, killing someone over tax fraud. Inwardly, he started to get nervous as James advanced on Peter.

"Now…" James started, looking lovingly at the knife then back up at Peter, "You really shouldn't have interfered in my business. Not just that, but breaking into my house!"

"I told you so," Peter hissed.

James took a few steps closer and stuck the knife to Peter's throat.

"Goodbye, love. Too bad I don't even know your name.

"Wait!" Neal called out, trying to buy some time. It worked, at least for a few seconds, as he turned to face the con man with a deadly look on his face. "D-don't kill him. I can help you. I can even make you more money than cheating your taxes as much as you do makes you." His mind wildly searched for a plan as Lide sidestepped to lean in front of him.

"And how do you propose we do this?" he asked. Neal sighed in relief; James was at least interested in the bait.

"We steal," Neal said dramatically, "a casino. Full of cash, all for you."

"Oh?" James raised an eyebrow, "I like the sound of that, but can you deliver?"

"Well…"

Neal hesitated, and it was all Lide needed to call his bluff. He pointed the knife at Peter. Neal scrunched up his eyes. Desperate times…

"Wait!" James turned to him, looking irritated. "At least… kill me first, please. I couldn't… I couldn't…" he took a deep breath, "I couldn't bear to see my boyfriend die in front of me."

James turned to him, a sadistic gleam in his eye. Neal cheered inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter just giving him a weird look. Like angst mixed with pure fear, a cup of surprise, and a pinch of interest?

"Your boyfriend, huh?" he aimed at Peter, "Well, just for being nosey and bothering me, I'm going to rape your boyfriend, THEN kill him." He glanced down almost lovingly at the handsome, boyish man and started untying him. He pushed him to the floor, ripping off his shirt and forcing his mouth on Neal's, trying to open his lips. Peter looked about as horrified as Neal felt disgusted.

Fortunately, James provided the exact opportunity Neal was looking for. He dropped the knife and put his hands down in an unstable position and Neal reached his legs up and flipped him over in a headlock. Neal snatched the knife while Lide was still stunned, stretched to pull Peter closer, and cut the ropes. Peter leapt up as Lide started to regain consciousness, handcuffed him and threw him harshly against the wall. The two guards rushed into the room at the noise and Peter shot them both in the knees without a second thought. He jogged over briefly to pull them out of the room and handcuff their ankles together, then call the police.

He walked back to Neal, crawling over to where the bright blue eyed man was sitting, staring sadly at the remains of his shirt. Several buttons were missing, and part of it was torn, but Peter was just glad that the man himself was unharmed except for a slight bruise on his lips. It started to bleed and Peter reached up, wanting to wipe it away. He almost got close enough to touch Neal's lip, but then he pulled his hand away self-consciously. Neal grabbed it before it was pulled out of reach.

"Peter," he started.

Peter started to get uncomfortable. Heat started creeping up his cheeks, but he was uncertain why. Neal knew why he had a blush of his own. And he didn't want to hold back the reason why, not this time. Holding back lost him a lot in the past.

"Peter, if you don't mind, I think I might lo- like you."

In the end, he couldn't get the real thing out there. However, it was just enough. Neal leaned in just an inch, and Peter responded equally. Neal inched forward until they were centimeters apart. Cherries still hovered on Peter's breath, and Neal inhaled appreciatively. Suddenly, Peter took the initiative and closed the final gap himself. Their lips met and Neal's head felt light like he was drunk.

Neal leaned forward, pushing the burly agent onto the floor, kissing him again and again, regretting each brief second their lips didn't meet. He started pulling off Peter's sweater and Peter seemed to come to his senses. He grabbed Neal's hands.

"Hey hey," he chided.

Neal grinned, "I'm shirtless; it's only fair if you are, too."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his shirt and sweater, and pulled it over his head.

"There," he grunted, "Now we're equal. But nothing else is coming off."

He snaked his arm around Neal's neck and dragged him downwards into another kiss. Neal tentatively bit at Peter's lip, encouraging him to open his mouth. At last he did and Neal snuck his tongue in, exploring further and further. He wrapped his arms around the agent, kissing him over and over, a gleeful feeling welling up inside him.

"What the heck are you guys doing?"

Neal broke the kiss to look up at Lauren Cruz. She looked slightly uncomfortable, standing in the doorway. Neal tried a winning smile on her, hoping it would work. She just shook her head.

"You guys are hot and all, but honestly…"

There was an awkward silence.

"So, are you going to help me get these guys into the police car or what?" She gestured at the three men, two bleeding from the legs, the other from a small, wall-induced head wound.

Neal glanced down at Peter, who was giving him his best attempt at an expectant face through the heavy blush of embarrassment that graced his cheeks. Neal pushed himself up and pulled on the sad remains of a once great shirt. Peter just ignored his shirt and sweater and dragged Neal along behind him to help with the two burly guards, while Lauren made Lide walk to the police cruiser.

Once they were in the cars with a guard and a nurse for their minor wounds, Peter turned back to Neal.

"That was interesting," he commented as casually as possible.

Neal grinned, flashing all his teeth.

"That was terrific," he replied and leaned in for another kiss. When he pulled back, he said, "Are you getting your shirt, or are you just going to go back to the FBI building? Not that I'd mind."

"Don't get your hopes up," he looked at Neal playfully.

"How about a date first, then?"

"That sounds great," Peter nodded.

"Tomorrow, then, after work."

* * *

Haha, well, what do you think about me continuing this? Of course, I didn't end it on a cliffhanger, so it's fine if left like this. I don't know if I can keep up the hot, tho, you'd have to settle for cute.  
I apologize if the writing was bad… I discovered the atrocity to writing that is "My Immortal," read it, thinking it wasn't that bad, and quit after chapter 5. I think I sneezed out the last of my liquefied brain just a couple seconds ago.  
As for the title, sorry there weren't really any guns involved… maybe I'll occasionally continue this and just make up scenes along the way. I don't know anything about fashion, action, or white collar crime, tho, so either help would be nice, or you'll have to settle for stuff like the above.

**VvV **R&R for PeterNeal love? You know, they don't even have a smoosh, that I've seen. How about Peal? Woot! Let's go with Peal! **VvV**


End file.
